Flames of the Maple King
by livingIngray
Summary: A boy transported years into the past. A timeless war. A dangerous plot. Can this boy change his future for the better? Or will his future succumb to the plans of the dreaded Auf Haven.
1. Prologue

Title: Flames of the Maple King  
Rating: T  
Genre: Adventure/Romance  
Summary: A boy transported years into the past. A timeless war. A dangerous plot. Can this boy change his future for the better? Or will his future succumb to the plans of the dreaded Auf Haven.  
Disclaimer: All rights go to wherever they need to. Such as Maplestory.

_Prologue_

The sun rose once again upon the ravaged, battle-scarred lands of Victoria. The once-beautiful landscape of lush green forests, crystal clear lakes, far-reaching fields of grass, had been transformed by the ever changing tactics and harsh methods of war.

War.

That cruel beast of change, where the young fight for glory and the old, bitter watch. War is an unchanging article upon the world. And once again, that article will renew.

On the edge of the horizon, the sun's caressing rays reflected off the metal clad figures, giving off a bright glint. Drums beat in a melancholy tone, merely to keep the tempo, and to ward off the unease that creeps into the hearts of men. Music, as horrid as it was, gave the army heart as they slowly marched to their doom.

The army walked on, flanked by clothed figures carrying staffs and wands of various colors. Men and women, striding with confidence in their knowledge. Wearing pointed shoes, robes of cloth, and head dresses of shades of grey, the magicians worked to support the warriors from the back.

Wielding elemental powers and shaking the field as they chanted, these "mages" blasted swaths in the ranks of their enemies.

This army walked slowly to the middle of the field. The wavy, pale grass slowly swayed in the wind as they stomped on, drums banging and armor clanking. The fields of Henesys were beautiful in spring, as the scorching sun blared upon the figures and the sky opened its arms. Suddenly the drums stopped.

The army, as one ceased to move. The magicians, the warriors, the men and women as a whole, stood in silence. The wind blew over them, a calm breeze. A man coughed, earning him a swift kick from his fellow. The cough reverberated in the large empty space. That's when it hit them. Nothing else was making a sound. Not a bird, an insect, nothing.

Silence.

The magicians tensed. A heavy pressure passed over them all. Unease began to run rampant throughout their hearts. Their limbs were heavy, their minds became clouded.

A spark.

Another.

Lightning struck the ground as clouds rapidly drew in. The sky filled with darkness as lightning sparked on a continual spot in front of the masses. Soon, the shocks became streaks of light, leaving flames after their initial collision.

Suddenly, the very air tore. A dark rift opened in the air in front of them and grew. The void yawned in front of the army as fear spread from man to man. The darkness was in front of them, it's maw filling with red as eyes appeared, first one, then another. The gate opened even further and finally touched the floor. The lightning stopped, the clouds ceasing their rumbling. The army stood awestruck. Horrified. Terrified. Paralyzed. But not enough to flee, such was the bravery of these men.

The gate began to swirl. The eyes melded together and spun in the void. A figure passed through the mass. A tall, black iron-clad figure strode leisurely out of the gateway. His armor gleamed dully and was adorned with specks of gold, at his side was a sword, sheathed in a brown scabbard, glowing with dark malice. The figure's cape, as dark as night, wrapped around his legs like a shadow.

The helmet, which was attached with a black horse tail protruding from the back, concealed the face yet revealed his mouth. Darkness seeped from the eye slits, giving the appearance of a soulless fiend.

The figure had now walked to within 20 feet of the army and stopped. Looking at the ranks, the knight said nothing. The sword hung at his side, drawing the attention of those close to it. The wind blew on, catching the cape and flowing it around the figure, giving the appearance of wings. The rift, still adorned with red eyes staring from within, swirled unceasingly behind him.

The knight lifted his helmet.  
A red mass of hair fell.  
A delicate smile grew.  
Pale skin.  
Golden eyes.  
A woman.

She shook her hair loose and it tumbled around her, wrapping her armor with her soft curlsand coloring it lush red. She was beautiful, with a perfect smile crossing her lips.

However, the unveiling of the women did not captivate the men. Rather, the men drew back, in fear. They stared in horror at the face, and some of them cursed. A cursed angel, they called out. Demon. Witch. A swath of curses and oaths roared out. Officers called out, men shouted back. And the women stood there, calmly bearing their abuse. Her eyes glinted her humor.

The army gradually hushed. Then, they parted ranks. Out strode a brilliant white horse, adorned in battle plates. Upon its sides flowed banners stitched with eagles and hawks in flight. It's rider, clad in silver armor easily rode through the ranks. His plates gleamed with the brightness of the sun, blinding those who stared directly. Upon his head was a crop of golden hair, flowing freely in the wind. His features were cropped and perfectly shaved. His face was the embodiment of calm as he stared straight ahead, his jaw rigged and locked. On his back hung his weapon, a massive broadsword contained in a beautifully adorned jeweled scabbard. And to match his foe, a silver cloak fell across his back, sweeping over the end of his mount.

He had walked to the front of his army. Pulling lightly at the reins, he stopped. The silver mass behind him immediately closed ranks in response. Swinging his legs over the side, the silver knight dropped off the horse.

He now stood before the black knight. Both figures faced one another, their eyes dueling, looking for advantages. The man's rigged, impassive face was mirrored in contrast to the woman's delicate, humored features. A heavy silence passed over the figures.

Finally, the silence was broken.

"Auf Haven...", the silver knight quietly began, "...to think that you would attempt such blasphemous actions. You, who claimed to be a disciple of God, a being of heaven. You came to us with wings of light, symbols of truth and verity. Instead you lied to us, deceiving us with fabrications and flights of fancy to draw you in. With the sole purpose of draining the land of it's flow of Mana and leaving it's population in ruins. And you almost succeeded in fulfilling your selfish desires, if not for the actions of the late Archbishop Bartholomew, who discovered and exposed you for what you were to his own demise."

The silver knight spoke passionately, accusing the woman, Auf Haven, and stating her crimes.  
She stood silently, passively smiling as she heard her crimes.

"I stand behind my actions, Michael," Auf Haven hissed softly, her words dripping with sarcasm, "I deceived you all, I took what I wanted from your idiotic clergy, used them as my own pawns. My only regret was my growing carelessness, to be so close and be found by that "holy man." It was a setback, but a minor one at that. I never expected him to be so weak, even as I stripped his body of both flesh and soul."

Auf Haven had a fresh grin upon her face as she said this.

"To think that any of you would be so foolish as to believe that I was a saint," she laughed, "how low the land of mortals has become."

She unsheathed her sword, pointing it at Michael.

"I will see you all bowing before me, like the wretches you are!", she screeched, her eyes dancing with malice.

Michael, shaking his head, reached behind him, picking up a silver knight's helmet. He placed it upon his head, bringing down the full visor, covering his face. He slowly unsheathed his massive broadsword, before bringing the sword over his head and slammed the ground before him. A great shock wave emitted from the blow, sheer force rushing straight for Auf Haven. The blow struck her, crashing into her petite figure, spraying earth and spewing dust everywhere.  
Michael slowly stood up, before heaving the weapon onto his shoulder.

"We have nothing else to discuss then, witch."

The dust cleared. The blow was devastating, swiping great swaths of earth on both sides of the impact. Quake lines stretched and zigzagged outwards, rocks were flung to all sides. But as great as the blow was, as terrible its power was shown, Auf Haven stood. Untouched, her armor stood completely unscratched. It was as if it never touched her, that she had merely walked into her current position. Her face still held its humorous look from previously.

"Then let us begin," she said softly.

A great rumbling sound. The gate behind Auf Haven began to swirl, faster and faster. The crimson eyes, now a blur, began to bulge out. A shapeless mass, red as fresh blood, poured from the gate, growing in size with each moment like a bubble. It swelled toward the army crossing the air, spreading farther and farther, until it couldn't take anymore. The bubble burst, spewing forth hundreds upon hundreds of creatures. Terrible beasts with fangs, horns, claws. Grotesque monsters of green, yellow and white erupted from the mess, falling to the floor. Most of them had four legs. It was hard to tell where one creature ended and another began. A great pile of limbs struggled to get free in order to feast upon the men who were so generously waiting right outside their door. Screeching, howling, hissing, a cacophony of noise swam through the air, deafening the army. One of the creatures, a white wolf-like creature with glowing red eyes and six legs, untangled itself and rushed for Michael, who was standing at the head of the army. It leaped at him with its fangs bared, only to fall at his feet sliced cleanly in half. Green fluid oozed from its halves, drenching the ground. The majority of the monsters had now picked themselves up by now, barking and snarling at the men. They raced across the field, their numbers innumerable, horrible in all sights. The men shouted , forming ranks, locking shields, pulling out swords, axes, maces. Archers fired volleys of arrows into the seething mass, the mages chanting in their arcane tongue, invoking the powers of fire, ice, and lightning to collide with their foes. The men braced themselves for the impact of the horde.

They met.

Auf Haven slowly walked away from the battle, the screams, sounds of horror and bloodshed fresh in the distance. Chuckling, she slowly advanced to the center of the island, where she knew, she would find it.

Prologue End...

A/N: Thanks for reading. I love playing maplestory and decided to try out the fanfiction. Any feedback is welcome :) Also I would love reviews so I can also review your stories and get criticism.


	2. Boys Will Be Boys

Title: Flames of the Maple King  
Rating: T  
Genre: Adventure/Romance  
Summary: A boy transported years into the past. A timeless war. A dangerous plot. Can this boy change his future for the better? Or will his future succumb to the plans of the dreaded Auf Haven.  
Disclaimer: All rights go to wherever they need to. Such as Maplestory.

Chapter 1: Boys Will Be Boys

"Scan, wake up! You need to get ready for school." An annoying old woman was calling for him. The curtains of his room were pulled open, the accursed sunlight illuminating a young boys face as he desperately tried to stay asleep. Scan grumbled and pulled the sheets over his head, turning over and stubbornly refusing to get up. The young teenager should have known better, however, to refuse a Grandmaster. Athena Pierce frowned, before sweeping the boy off of his bed onto the cold wood below.

Scan yelped in surprise, as his paradise of warmth was replaced by the hell of a winter morning's floor. He quickly stood up, straightening his pajamas before diving into his slippers. Then, quickly apologizing to his caretaker, he rushed out of the room, to escape any further instances of her wrath. Once out of the room, he slowly dragged his feet to the washroom, where a freezing bucket of water and a toothbrush complimented by freshly squeezed toothpaste on a sink awaited his torture. Splashing his face with the water, Scan cringed as it bit like fire, before quickly drying his face with a nearby towel. Standing before the washroom mirror, he slowly brushed his teeth with his eyes closed, trying to retain even a little of that paradise he lost.

Rinsing his mouth, he looked into the mirror one last time to check his appearance. As a young teenager of 16, he did not have the innocent features of a child, nor the rugged ones of an adult. Instead, his pale face was a mixture of the two, as it gradually turned from one to another. His ebony hair was messy, as always. Scan picked out a small band, and tied the back of his hair in a small ponytail. It wasn't long, more so a bun than a tail. His yellow eyes gleamed brightly, with as much intellect or humor as one would see in an average youth as any who lived in Henesys.  
Returning to his room, Scan stripped off his blue spotted pajamas, before pulling on a light white shirt and sweater combo, complete with black jeans. The ability to create clothing was incredible these days, Scan lightly noted, as he slowly pulled a fluffy white sock over his feet and across his lower leg. Feeling slightly better than he was this morning, Scan walked to the kitchen of his house, lightly scratching his behind. Technically not his house, it belonged to that of his caretaker, Athena Pierce.

An old woman now in her 50s, Athena had auburn hair that was slowly turning gray. Her pale skin shone brightly, and her green eyes softly gazed over all she looked. In her youth, she was said to have looked as beautiful as her namesake. Now, not so much.

Athena was, as previously mentioned, a Grandmaster. The island of Victoria, or what was left of it, was governed by its five cities, each complete with its own leader.

Each one of these "Grandmasters", was a master at a particular form of weaponry. This was due to the fact that each Grandmaster was responsible for training each new generation of recruits who desired their skills. So, usually each city developed its own style, according to its particular militant group. Athena was the Bowmaster of Victoria, head of the village of Henesys. Nestled in the forests near Lith Harbor, Henesys was a quiet town where hunters would occasionally stop to trade and converse before heading into the wilds.

Scan, however, was a special case. He was not a bowman in any manner at all. Instead, he had been raised by Athena for as long as he could remember, growing up with her as his caretaker. She had told everyone that the boy belonged to a friend of hers who had died, and was raising him in his mother's place. This story caused the majority of Henesys to look down upon Scan with pity, barely talking to him as he grew up, growing up with memories of watching from afar as everyone practiced archery, without him. Athena never offered to Scan the ability to wield a bow, and he never asked. There was an invisible wall between the boy and the bow.  
Scan entered the old fashioned kitchen. Oaken cabinets, shelves stocked with spices, the room always caused him to sniff in deeply with satisfaction. He plopped himself down on a wooden chair surrounding the big circular dining table, while Athena set before him a plate of crispy, golden hash-browns, steaming bacon, hot off the pan, and a pair of fluffy eggs, sunny side up of course. Delicious.

Scan thanked Athena, before gorging himself on the freshly made breakfast. It was as good as it sounded, and he devoured it with record time. Now, stuffed and happy, he thanked Athena once again for the meal, grabbed his coat and bag, and walked out the door. He also picked up a longsword from the umbrella compartment.

Outside of the house, Scan zipped up his crimson fleece jacket, shouldered his bag, hung the longsword from his belt, and proceeded to walk along the path to his school. The day was lovely, with the sun shining, and hardly any wind. If it wasn't so damned cold, it would be perfect, Scan thought as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

He strolled past the fields of Henesys, as they swayed softly. It was quiet, a stillness in the air that calmed Scan as he casually walked. The fields turned into a forest, the leaves on the trees long since gone. Silence. He closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh air, in peace with his surroundings. This was true bliss, he thought.

"SCAN, THINK FAST!" A brisk voice shouted somewhere in front of him.  
Scan, startled by the sudden shout, opened his eyes and drew his sword into a rushed block, but to no avail. A speeding projectile hurtled toward him and smacked him dead center in the forehead. Pain filled his head as he tottered and fell backward, hurling his sword somewhere behind him. Slowly, he felt himself falling away, as the light of day slipped away. Deaths embrace was so cold, he thought, as he -

"Oi, wake up, you lazy bum." Something, or rather, someone really annoying was nudging his feet as he tried to escape this situation with his own death.

Disgruntled, he opened his eyes grumpily, to see his "friend" Koolaid grinning down at him. Dark haired as he was, with a smiling face that never seemed to change, Koolaid was almost a polar opposite of Scan. Eyes as blue as the ocean winked at him, sparkling with humor. Koolaid was leaning over the collapsed body of his friend, whom he had nailed cleanly with a baseball. Strolling over to the ball, he casually picked it up, dusting it off before placing it back into his jacket pocket. Wearing a black fleece jacket with one of it's sleeves rolled up, black jeans, complete with black sneakers, it wasn't hard to see that Koolaid's favored color of choice was.

On his left wrist was a brown bracer, which served to protect the arm from the cutting motion of the ebony recursive bow that was strapped around Koolaid's body.

Scan lay there for several moments, lamenting his sorrow, before slowly getting to his feet. He then proceeded to search for his lost sword in the nearby bracken. Discovering it, Scan grabbed it by the hilt and pulled, taking the whole brush with it. Irritated, he began ripping the offending plant off of his sword.

Koolaid watched humorously, adding comments like, "You missed a spot there.", and such.

Scan finally finished his cleaning, and sheathed his sword, before turning to Koolaid and punched him in the arm. It took Koolaid by surprise, and he gasped in pain. Scan then stood still with his arms crossed.

"What'cha do that for?" Koolaid whined while rubbing his sore arm. Scan sternly stared at his "friend", not even bothering to answer. Koolaid, seeing he wasn't going to get anywhere, shrugged, put off his act, and grinned.

"Can't blame me though, I saw you walking in the forest without any measure of caution. That was your own fault for not seeing me." Koolaid coolly stated. Scan continued to stare.

Koolaid shrugged. There was no pleasing his socially deprived friend, who had never had an ounce of fun in his life apparently.

"C'mon then. Let's get to school before Alcaster tans our hides." Koolaid said cheerfully, before setting off onto the earthen path. Scan watched him walk for a couple of steps before shaking his head and following suit.

Theirs was a strange relationship. Scan had never been accepted by the other children of his age. Most of them had families who had lived here for a long time, and had known each other for years. The arrival of a newcomer was strange for them, and they tended to avoid talking to him. Scan, content to leave it be, had never approached them either. This strange circumstance was changed one day, when Scan was confronted by a group of the other children.

A group of six or seven boys, convinced that Scan was a outsider who they felt the need to expunge, cornered him after class. They assaulted him, and were surprised by his amount of resistance. There was none. Not a word of protest, nor any fist raised to defend himself. And so, they gleefully set to hitting him as much as they boys felt superior, and threw as hard punches as they wanted, while calling Scan names, such as "Outsider", "Meat", and "Weakling". However, once the first boy raised his fist after calling Scan a "weakling", he was dealt with a swift blow to his cheek.

Scan, bruised and battered, now held a look of hatred in his eyes. He raised his fists and knocked the boy flat with a single blow, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"I'M NOT A WEAKLING!" His burst of rage lasted no more than 2 minutes, in which time all the remaining boys were sprawled out on the floor or had fled. Naturally, this was an uncommon sight, and all of the perpetrators told their superiors that Scan had bullied them after school. The teachers labeled him a delinquent, and did not take pity on him anymore.

Ironically, this led to Scan finally making a friend among his classmates. A small shrewish boy came up to him one day as Scan slowly pushed himself on a swing set. The boy struck up a conversation, telling Scan that he had no ill feelings toward them, since he had seen what had really happened that day. Scan acted as he normally did, unsure of the boy, trying to keep him at a distance, whereas the boy was very chatty. He opened up conversations faster than Scan could close them. But it was nice. When asked his name, the boy merely replied, "Koolaid".

The two boys, for better or for worse, were inseparable after that. They were best friends, and got into all sorts of trouble. Gradually, the times would not last though, and as they hit their teenage years, Scan grew more responsible, while Koolaid grew quite possibly, more childish.  
Even so, while Scan had qualms about his friend's ideas of jokes these days, he still appreciated him, and his personality in the world he lived in. Scan thought all this in his head as he slowly trailed Koolaid along the forest path, and before he knew it, they were there.  
The Archeological Institute of Henesys.

**A/N: 2nd chapter of the story. Hope you guys enjoyed it. Please R and R your thoughts so I can also R and R ur stories and receive criticism. **


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